


Step by Step

by BlackStormsShadow (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Ballet AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BlackStormsShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>"Tony and Loki as the top ballerinas of opposing (or semi-cooperative) companies and mostly Loki tears down Tony’s style because they’re both very different (grace vs power, knife vs pistol whip, etc) and Tony spends a lot of his time hating Loki for how much of an asshole he is — almost as much time as he spends completely awestruck by how good Loki is (which makes Tony hate him more because Tony Stark does not do awe for other people). Then at the end, when Tony is throwing himself into practice for long and hard hours, Loki stops him before he hurts himself and it turns out that Loki’s verging on retirement, that he’s going on to teaching, and would Tony have really taken him seriously if he’d heaped praises on Tony like everyone else? No, Tony, like Loki, responds to challenges."</p><p>For rrrowr … Ballerina AU<br/>Inspired, quite a bit, by terresdebrume’s The Way it Goes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since Loki was little, he’d had a way with his feet.

Whenever he was on the hilltop overlooking the valley, Sleipnir by his side, he’d swayed with the wind, hummed with the birds, and danced to the tunes of nature.

He was a happy young man to the very core, and dance was his passion.

Music made him wild and free … when he was dancing, nothing else mattered, not the farm, not the paddocks, not the small country that had somehow developed on their 4 dozen acres of land … nothing else mattered, just the gurgle of the river, the hum of the dragonflies, the whistling of the birds and the swish of the leaves. Here, in the fields, free in the open air, Loki was in heaven.

When Loki was young, Frigga had caught him dancing in the fields to no music, his eyes closed and his smile so wide.

When she saw the look on his face, so calm, so peaceful, and full of life … she smiled too.

She had kept his secret, only because she wanted him to be happy, and Odin would never look at him again if he found out about Loki’s dream … a dream to be a dancer.

Odin, Loki’s father, had family and friends living on the farm with them. They had a thousand heads in cattle, hundreds of sheep, dozens upon dozens of hens, a paddock of pigs, exactly 12 German Shepherds, 1 Utonagan dog (owned and cared for by Loki) and a quite a few horses.

Loki’s chores were constantly getting reduced by new people coming onto the farm, new people getting old enough to help and people back from an injury or two, ready to plough into the work, all for the love of Frigga’s cooking.

Being a child, Loki’s jobs were to assist in the muck out of the stables, feed the horses in the mornings, get the other children up and ready for tutoring, attend tutoring and help make dinner.

He always had spare time for dancing.

But it was a secret between him and his mother … no one else knew, not even Thor.

Frigga had managed to get him into dancing classes with a woman in the town nearby.

It was here, that Loki learned the beauty and elegance of Ballet and instantly fell in love.

Ever since, every Saturday, Frigga would drive him the 25 minutes it took to get into town, drop him off at class. She would then spend the next 2 hours working in the second-hand store.

Loki had finally learned to dance.

Loki’s teacher, Maria, loved his passion for dancing. She taught him everything there was to know about it and Loki soaked it in, soon learning the art of Ballet.

A few times, Maria offered to make him audition videos to send to the Ballet Schools in Europe.

The schools were Loki’s way of getting away from this life he was forced into, they were his chance to run and jump and fly and not have to worry about Odin.

If he were to be accepted in any of them, Frigga would make sure he went, and even Odin wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Loki didn’t qualify for the first four they applied for, but he didn’t give up. He kept going. _‘Greater, Better, Higher’_ was his motto and he followed it faithfully.

Because they had to keep his dancing passion a secret from Odin, Loki was not able to apply or attend competitions, but he still danced.

He would never stop dancing, even if it never amounted to anything in his life.

As he got older and a larger work load was put on him, lessons became more infrequent. He was able to make it some weeks, but not others. Luckily, his secret never became apparent to his father.

Late in July, the year of his 15th birthday, Maria told him of an offering for him in ‘The Royal Ballet School’ (The RBS). He was hesitant at first; unsure of whether he wanted to go through the disappointment of not being good enough.

Loki eventually declined but kept going … _‘Greater, Better, Higher’_.

When he could, Loki would still dance on the farm.

When tending the horses, he would twirl on his toes; gracefully leap from one of the stables to the gate of another. He would laugh and continue normally for a while, until the urge to dance took over again.

Loki would walk beside the horses on days when it was too difficult to ride; whether from stiff joints of sore muscles from working with them earlier in the week, Loki would always exercise them.

They would walk through the paddocks and up to the hill, once there the horses would graze on the grass and Loki would dance. He would dance until his legs hurt, and then he would dance until his feet hurt, and even then, when his muscles were tired and sore, he would do odd little skips on his toes when walking the group of horses back to the barn.

Loki would dance when mucking out stables, he would dance when feeding the horses, he danced when laying out the wool, he would dance when no one was looking during harvests and he would dance in the kitchen when helping his mother, his Aunt and Matilda, and his father’s cousin Angerboda in making dinner. They kept his secret too.

In the end, he was always dancing.

~oOo~

“What are you doing?” Loki turned quickly when he heard the voice of his father, dropping the saddle at his feet, scared shock on his face. _‘Oh God no! No. No. No. Please no …’_ a lump formed in Loki’s throat and when he tried to speak nothing came out.

“You'd better be saddling the horse boy” Odin glared at him, then down at the dropped saddle, and back up to the young man. His single eye was still menacing even on its own.

Loki was constantly asked if he remembered the story to do with how his father came to wear the eye patch … but to be honest, he was never told the story in the first place.

Loki nodded hesitantly and turned back to working as Odin left, picking the saddle up from his feet. The spring that was previously in his steps, was now gone, along with the current desire to dance. His father scared him shitless.

~oOo~

Loki was closed in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and digging his head into the small figure of his body. He tried to block out the yelling, but Odin was so loud.

Thor, his brother, had brought a girl home … this was obviously not a good idea.

Loki was worried about telling Odin a while back about his probable homosexuality.

Then he heard the conversation (argument) the man had with their cousin on his homosexuality.

Loki didn’t particularly want to be kicked out onto the street as 15 so he kept his mouth shut.

It was scary how his father willing kicked out his own family for what they were or who they chose to be … or even who they loved … but it was his farm after all.

His aunt Matilda left soon after that incident.

~oOo~

It was December, on his 16th year, when Maria told him that ‘The Royal Ballet School’ was offering the position again.

It was his last chance, one more chance to get away from his father’s yelling, get away from the hiding and whispers and secret and finally come out with the fact that he loved to dance.

This time, Loki accepted and the application went through the next day.

Loki was out in the fields again, on the hill, Sleipnir grazing off to his right.

The Christmas music from the village nearby wafted over to him and his urge to dance rose.

He picked himself up and stepped out.

 _‘Breathe’_ he told himself, his chest rising and falling as he controlled the nervous tension that settled in his stomach.

Performing, no matter where, to whom, or lack of whom, made him slightly nervous, but by the time he started dancing he was swept up in it and flown away. All thoughts and worries set off to the winds.

Loki concentrated on his balance, grace and strength as he went over the positions. The Arabesque and the Pirouette taking the most work out of all the actions. He didn’t have a problem with the movements on their own, but keeping them in time with the rhythm and not tripping over his own two feet were very important.

He mainly concentrated on the major section in the solo Maria had organised for him for the final audition in The RBS. He was only thinking _‘Greater, Better, Higher’_ after all.

Loki wouldn’t practice until he got the steps right … he would practice until he didn’t get them wrong.

He was always messing it up in the theatre but out here, out in the fields with the wind, the river, the birds and the bees, he got it right every time.

One early autumn morning, Loki was up and about, unsaddling the horses after their morning ride. His mother, Frigga was bringing out his breakfast. _‘Strange’_ he thought and went to greet her, settling the buffed saddles on the fencing.

“I have a surprise for you” she smiled warmly and handed him a letter. “You remember Maria applying for The Royal Ballet School on your behalf?” She asked and his gaze whipped up and looked at her, disbelieving. “Can’t be?!”

He smiled so broadly. 

He knew that it was moments like this that Frigga loved, the smiles he had when anything about dancing came up.

_Dancing was the only thing that ever made him smile._

Loki tore at the envelope and pulled out the letter, murmuring the words as he read them.

His thumb brushed across the signature of ‘Dame Ninette de Valois’ and his smile grew from a warm, happy curve to a full blown grin.

It took barely a moment for Loki to jump at his mother and clutch her to his chest. “Thank you” he murmured in her ear, a single tear of joy rolling down his cheek.

~oOo~

It wasn’t long after that when Odin found out, but Loki knew it was bound to happen eventually.

“No son of mine will be a _Ballet dancer_ ” he bellows the words with such disgust that it broke Loki’s heart. 

“Well why not? I’m 16! I can make my own choices now!” Loki’s emerald eyes welled with tears. His anger overrode his sadness, and his voice ended up roaring nearly as loud as Odin.

“My sons are men, not dancers!” Odin yelled at the young man in front of him. Loki’s face contorted in disgust and hatred at the man he called father (just thinking that word made bile rise in his gut).

_How could the man who raised him, the man who called him his son, hate his dreams so much?_

“Well it’s a damn good thing I’m not your son!” Loki spat angrily and stormed up to his room in the attic.

Odin stood still in the living room, for once in his life not having the last word, his brow furrowing as the realisation hit home. _‘He knows’_.

Loki stuffed clothes into a rucksack and put his laptop in its bag. He grabbed his phone, slipping it into his pocket and stuffed a blanket into the bag to fill up the empty space, then pilling all his books into cardboard boxes.

He carried his bags and the 3 boxes of books downstairs and put them inside the door.

Loki collected the keys to his truck and went out into the pouring rain, placing everything into the 4-wheel-drive and giving Fenrir enough room in the backseat.

He called his hound out and patted the seat twice, the indication for come up. He scratched the wolf-like dog behind the ears as he shut the door.

He spared a minute to kiss his mother goodbye and tell her he was sorry that it came to this. He collected his savings money and closed the front door behind him for the last time.

A new life awaited him, one where he wouldn’t be discriminated against for his dream.

A new life at The Royal Ballet School … a new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is factual, it's all shit that came out of my head and you'll just have to live with that ... I'm sorry.  
> Also, on the honesty note, I had Terresdebrume as a beta for these chapters, let's just say I won't be bothering her again with my awful fic writing ...

Tony Stark was THE brightest kid you’d ever meet.

By the age of 3 he had an effective understanding of the Internal Combustion Engine. At 4 he had effectively put together a working . By the age of 6 he had built a working prototype of a better, more efficient, International Space Station.

He was a genius, simple as that.

When he was 15, Tony had successfully entered Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) to study Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, and graduated with two Masters’ (in Physics and Electrical Engineering) degrees by age 19.

~oOo~

Nobody, not even his dad, knew about his passion for dancing … well … Except Pepper Potts. She was his go-to-girl for everything. His best friend, since he was 4 years old.

He told her he wanted to dance because of all the hot girls that became ballerinas, but she could see right through him.

He had a deep seated passion for dancing. The feel of the music in his bones, the thrill of the leaps and the discipline one needed to master the craft, because it is a craft. It is one of the highest of crafts known to man.

The ability to control the body and have such grace, elegance and form disciplined … Ballet was definitely a craft, if not a _gift_.

Tony appreciated the grace and elegance of Ballet and the role of a man, but he preferred the power, the rage and glory that could be formed into the dancing.

Tony was never one for elegance; he would never be caught on his toes like the prissy men who practised at Ballet. He was the one who held the girl in one arm, who rolled in the air, power and rigid form, landing with well timed thumps on the floorboards and perfected stances to reduce shock and to show some form of elegance.

He’d been 12 when he found the class, and he’d watched it once before he decided that he wanted to join in.

Sure, he had fun holding the girls, standing still and young women in soft, pink tutus twirled and danced around him. He had great fun in showing off, but he was there for the discipline too. He enjoyed the beats that were drilled into him, the positions, the movements, the stances, he enjoyed the structure and performance that Ballet gave and he thrived off it.

~oOo~

Tony was a homeschooled young man, he worked from home and attended company events with his father, seeing as he was going to take over said company in the future.

Tony was whisked away to charity balls and highlight events, all the time, Stark Industries was involved. Tony didn’t mind the business part of it, but most of the time, there were dancers, and when he watched the way they moved he didn’t think _‘I would wouldn’t mind having that under the sheets tonight'_ like most people expected but instead his thoughts were more centred around _‘how do they do that?’, ‘what would it take for me to learn how to do that?’_ and _‘is that actually possible?!’_

Tony always concentrated on the movements of the dancers, why they wrapped there leg there and how that gave them support, while everyone (except Pepper) though he was just being a boy and admiring the beautiful women on display … they often thought that.

~oOo~

Tony didn’t stray from his engineering work and concentrated on his work passionately, but he still slipped in the time to see Madame Evangeline every day for their hourly training.

He enjoyed the way she taught, and she was in her 50’s, which was good, cause it meant in a private class, his eyes didn’t go wondering and he was able to concentrate on getting positions, strength and power right.

Tony enjoyed the hours or so he got in with Evangeline, it made his day brighter, and her smile was always warm and motherly. She may not have been his mother, but she was the closest thing he had to family.

~oOo~

Tony was down in his workshop, 20 years old when Edward came down to give him his mail.

Edward was a friend of the family, one who his father, Howard, had hired when Edward's son became a criminal. Jeffrey was a criminal, but Edward was a kind soul and a loyal person, so Howard had given him the generous position of a butler, seeing as they really had no need of one.

“Sir?” Edward always waited by the door for him, instead of going in and accidentally messing something up … well … that was Tony’s excuse for not letting him in.

“Edward” Tony put on his award winning smile and walked over to the man after setting his tools and safety goggles on the bench.

“Mail for you sir” Edward handed him the envelope and Tony looked at it questioningly.

“You can go now Ed” Tony dismissed the man and went back to his bench.

His brow furrowed as he split open the envelope with a small blade. He opened the letter inside and read.

His brow furrowed more near the middle of the letter and smoothed out when he raised his eyebrows with surprise.

Tony place the letter on the bench and sat in the stool, dumbstruck.

“Mr Anthony Edward Stark It is my pleasure to inform you that you have successfully been approved into the Adult program for the Joffrey Ballet School in New York City” Tony quickly read over the bottom again, just to make sure “Christoper D'Addario Executive Director”

 _“You’re just like Christoper D'Addario when he was young, all strong and impulsive. You will be a brilliant dancer Anthony. I just know it”_ Evangeline’s words of praise rung through his ears as he recognised the name.

“I’m in” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over his lips. “I’m … I’m actually in” Tony’s face blossomed into a grin.

“I’m in” he whispered to himself as he stood up and made his way to his room, taking the stairs 2 at a time.

~oOo~

Tony didn’t tell his father, he figured Howard wouldn’t care anyway.

He pulled out his suitcase and bag, stuffing clothes and electronics in as he went around his room, collecting his things and packing for the trip into New York.

~oOo~

Before he got to the school, Tony stopped by the studio Evangeline taught him in and entered quietly, doing his best not to disturb the current class.

“All right girls, that’s enough for today. I’ll see you all next week, and don’t forget … Practise, practise, practise!” the warm chuckle that accompanied Evangeline’s voice always made Tony feels warm and happy.

“Anthony! What can I do for you?” she smiled as Tony made his way through the groups of teenage girls going to get changed and meet their parents. He walked up to Evangeline and pulled the elderly woman into a breathtaking hug. “I’m in” he whispered when he let her go. “I got into Joffrey’s” he was barely able to suppress his grin.

Evangeline pulled him into a hug again and kissed him on the cheek “That’s wonderful news dear!” she smiled.

“I’ve been asked to come in today” he continued and Evangeline’s smile grew wider.

“I’m going to be a dancer!” Tony grinned, his joy overwhelming the desire not to draw attention to their conversation.

Tony swept the woman into a massive hug and was grinning like a mad man.

Evangeline just smiled and hugged him right back.


End file.
